


Volver

by they_call_it_a_halo



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fighting, Leaving, Loneliness, Misunderstandings, Parenthood, holding back tears, the 1920'ies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 18:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14599350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_call_it_a_halo/pseuds/they_call_it_a_halo
Summary: The night before he leaves for Mexico City with Ernesto, Hèctor and Imelda have a fight.





	Volver

The night before he leaves for Mexico City with Ernesto, Hèctor and Imelda have a fight. They’re not strangers to having quarrels exactly, but it’s never pent up, and never big enough that it leaves them in a bad place.

It is now.

It’s the fallout of them struggling to balance their lives, to figure things out, to grow into adults.  
Imelda doesn’t agree that putting their money in music (so to speak) for a living is a very stable or good idea; especially when that means Hèctor being on the road a  _lot_  more.   
She wants him to stay, to help her get the  _zapataria_  up and running properly, even though that’s  _her_  craft, even if she knows how much he wants to live off his talent, to-

  
“-chase some stupid musical fantasy…”   
“You think it’s about  _that_?” Hèctor blurts out, not sure if his wife is actually joking, “You think it’s about me touring the world and playing my guitar?”  
Imelda crosses her arms over her chest, chewing the inside of her cheek; a mannerism their daughter will later adopt to show her discontent.  
“That’s what you’re  _doing_ , Hèctor.”    
“I’m providing for my family; how is that a stupid fantasy?”  
“ _But you’re not,_ ” she unfolds her arms in an impatient gesture, lets them carry out the stress of her words. “Providing for your family means  _being here_ for your family! You wanna go be a musician, _bien, entonces vete-_ ”  
“ _Ay_ -” Hèctor takes a few steps around himself to keep from crying out loud, trying not to let his exasperation shine through. He doesn’t want to wake Coco, they’ve only just put her to bed an hour ago. He comes back to his wife, this absolute  _diosa_  of a woman, who is also extremely pigheaded, who just. Will not. See.  
“Imelda,” he grasps her shoulders, gently, to show her that he’s calm, and looks her in the eyes, “ _You have got to understand_ … I don’t want to do this for  _me_. I’m doing this for  _you_ , you and Coco.”

Her face softens somewhat. She knows how much Hèctor loves their girl, and how badly he misses her whenever he’s away from home. Which in turn enrages her even more; what exactly is he trying to prove? If he’s truly  _happy_  here, with her and Coco, why not stay and put down roots, once and for all? Why does he need to go seek out fortune, if he thinks he has it already?   
Hèctor can probably see how her features harden again, because his voice is soft and attentive when he speaks.  
“Melda, I…” He takes a deep breath and exhales, “I really think this is gonna work out, you just have to trust me.” He lets one hand cup her face, caressing the smooth skin of her cheek, his other hand gliding from her shoulder down her arm, detouring at her waist, resting there.   
“Hèctor-”  
“That’s all I’m asking, just _trust me, por favor, querida._ ”

They are silent for a moment. Imelda almost wishes for their daughter to wake up and demand her attention so she won’t have to say what she’s about to.  
“And what if it doesn’t work out? Will you then try again?”   
She takes his hand in her own and pulls it from her face. “I  _do_  trust you,” she tries to reassure him, “but it’s not enough. I need more guarantee than that.”  
“ _Yo se_.”  
“ _Coco_  needs more guarantee than that.”  
“ _Yo **se**_.”  
“You’re gonna have to  _know_  that it’ll work out, not just hope it will… We can’t be here forever, just waiting for you to-” she cuts herself off, knowing that she doesn’t want to say what she was about to. Instead, she shifts her angle: “What if we decide to have another child-”  
“How about we just focus on balancing having  _one_   _child_ , hmm?” Hèctor cuts her off. He knows he’s coming off annoyed, curt, but he doesn’t care. He  _ **is**_ annoyed; this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen on his last night at home. He doesn’t want to fight. But he can’t help letting his frustration get to him. The thought of not putting Coco to bed again for months has his chest aching. Why can’t she see that it’s not a relief to take off with Ernesto (not as it used to be), but a sacrifice? That he misses them already?   
Imelda’s eyes get big with warning at his words.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable enough to have any more of your children?” Imelda asks, her voice dangerously low.   
“That’s not-”  
“Are you saying maybe you don’t think we can  _handle_  more children? Or maybe that you just don’t  _want_  any more?”   
“ _Ay, dios ayudame_ ,” Hèctor grasps at his hair with both hands, tugging desperately at the ink-dark locks. He starts pacing around the room, it’s all he can do to not lose it, “ _Me estás volviendo **loco**_. That is  _so_  not what I’m saying!”   
“Then what  _are_  you saying?”   
“ _That I’m - trying - to - make - it - **work**_!” He exclaims through gritted teeth, his shoulders tensing with each word he’s forcing out, “I’m  _trying_ , Imelda. Would it hurt you that much to believe me? To support me?”   
They look at each other for a long time. Imelda wants to be on his side. She know she is  _expected_  to, as well, being his wife. But they’re a  _team_ , they’ve always been a team, and now he wants to go off on his own. He’s not even out of the door yet, and she already feels left behind.   
“I can’t, Hèctor,” she says, and it’s final. “If this is really what you want, then it’s out of my hands. But  _I can’t_ be with you in this. I  _can’t_  support you.”

*

They go to bed in silence, him a while later than her, and even though they end up with his arm curled around her and his face in her neck during the night, they don’t share a word.   
They don’t talk in the morning, either, except when Coco is there, and even then their words are short and forced. Imelda lets Hèctor have the whole day with their daughter alone, and she can hear laughter and funny voices.

She can’t unclench her hands.

When the time comes for him to leave, Coco stays in his arms for a long time, only letting go when Hèctor gently whispers something into her hair. Coco smiles and nods. Her  _papá_  kisses her, and she goes to her room. Imelda can see how much it pains her husband to say goodbye, but she doesn’t let it reach her. Especially not when he stands up and turns towards her. She is completely still, looking through the curtains in their kitchen.  _Anywhere_  that is not his face.   
“Imelda,” he says, trying to get to her. He touches her arm, and she pulls it away. “Imelda, don't do this, _por favor_ ,” He takes a hold on her, only doing so because she doesn’t resist this time, letting his arms fall around her waist, holding her there, desperate to not be shut out. “Don’t make me leave like this.”  
He says her name again, but this time it’s merely a breath, a whisper, “ _Imelda_ ,” and their eyes lock.   
“ _Voy a volver,_ ” he promises. Her lip quivers, and she looks away again, but Hèctor’s fingers gently guides her face back to his. He rests his forehead against hers, “Hey, I’m coming back. I’m coming back.”   
Imelda shuts her eyes. She won’t cry. She won’t.   
“Just go, Hèctor,” she snaps and steps away, breaking their intimate bubble.

Hèctor bites his lip, looking out the window where Ernesto is waiting for him. He takes a few deep, calming breaths, knowing full well that the last thing he wants is to test the fragile atmosphere by retorting. A beat passes. Then Hèctor grabs his suitcase and his guitar and heads for the door. Imelda holds her breath. Hèctor stops and turns in the door, casting one last glance at her, anger and guilt and love plastered on his face all at once. “See you soon,” he mutters, and shuts the door behind him.   
He’s not even off the doorstep before her composure breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> For me, the key word of Imelda's lasting anger is "abandonment", and not just when she realizes that Hèctor wouldn't come back; she feels left behind in a life she didn't choose to live on her own. She and Hèctor was a team, they were codependent, they needed each other to balance out their struggles. Her anger already sparked when, in her eyes, he decided that his passion for music weighed heavier than his love for her and Coco  
> But they were so young when they married, and were only just getting to know each other as adults and as a functioning family with settled roots, and my thought is that they had different views as to how you are expected to provide for and support each other: Imelda, as we know, has her beliefs buried deep in the soil of domestic responsibilities, seeing it as not just being abandoned, but being *betrayed* by her husband for wanting to make it work any other way.  
> Hèctor, on the other hand, knows that there are other ways to support your family. He needs, as a young man with a wife and daughter, to mark himself as their protector and provider, but he can't do that unless he follows his heart as well. He just wanted to find a way to interlock everything he loved in life, and when he realizes that one is clearly more important than the other, and that he has *plenty* of time left to figure things out, it's already too late.  
> It might have been an immature, selfish act of self-realization from Hèctor's side, but it ultimately came from a good place, with nothing but good intentions. And he regrets it every single day he spends in the Land of the Dead.


End file.
